Metallic Ecstacy
by Tomo Trillions
Summary: Legato - torture - fic, short and bloody, but in an artistic way. Vaugely Knives x Legato-ish if you think that way, barely Knives x Vash (again, you have to be looking for it), with no actual romance at all. How does that work?


Title: Metallic Ecstacy  
Rating: R for blood/tortute, though artistically rendered. A bit over-rated in that sense, but hopefully that'll scare the young'uns away....yeah right.  
Pairing: Knives x Legato, Knives x Vash, you have to *look* to see both pairings.  
Authors note: I'm not sure if it's clear or not, but Knives never actually touches Legato.  
I sort of like that spin on the fic...I managed to do this when I should have been studying for my algebra final, and I still managed a high B in the class. ^^!   
And they say obsession is bad for you...  
  
~Tomo  
  
  
  
  
~*~*~  
  
Nothing that you say will release you   
Nothing that you pray would forgive you   
Nothing's what your words mean to me   
Something that you did will destroy you   
Something that you said will stay with me   
Long after you're dead and gone   
If flesh could crawl my skin would fall   
From off my bones and run away from here   
As far from God - as heaven is wide   
As far from God - as angels can fly   
If holy is as holy does   
his house will burn straight down to hell   
And take its conscience with it as it falls   
Nothing said could change the fact   
My trust was blind, you broke the pact   
If God's my witness, God must be blind  
  
~As Heaven is Wide (Garbage)  
  
  
~~~~  
  
Beautiful. Tears, dewy wet droplets, diamonds that reflect and refract and bend the unholy blue light of His eyes as He smiles, lips slipping and pulling wider around a hot, slick tongue. Weaving down his cheeks like so many mythical raindrops, endless and salty and hot as they are licked up by the ghostly demon, the Master, dying on the corners of His lips. The closest to purity that can ever be attained is there in the thick lashes of golden eyes before mingling with the blood on his cheek and sending trails of liquid crimson cascading down his arching neck to pool at the collarbone and evaporate in cracked red stains. Choke back the agonized moan, revel in the exquisite pleasure of the cool slick metal, almost a loving touch but not quite flesh...almost a true caress and ever, ever so far from the desired blossoming flame of skin on skin. Mimicry of a physical act. Adultery of the soul.  
  
Moistly reverberating words in his mind that make him shiver and pant, send tendrils of frigid heart-stopping warmth curling through the pit of his scarred stomach and the bruises of fingertips, flowering and endless and deep purple-blue, the words He chooses as He whispers to His brother. Soft sounds of adoration, purring promises and mocking laughter and bitter, furious pinching blows. Hard glittering eyes of crystal sapphire glinting in the blood-red moonlight and shadows, everlasting and all knowing and ever so beautifully bleak as He begs His brother to turn and look and *see*.  
  
The human looks but cannot take the place of the other, cannot gather the shattered portions of his soul for long enough to speak. Would not dare try, had he the strength of will to disobey. Never wanted to. Never hope. Just lie and wait and love when Master gives the fading gift of sweltering beautiful pain.  
  
A sob of completion as Master's eyes narrow so beautifully, so clean and untouchable and ceramic-sweet in the darkness. Catching in his throat and constricting and growing, until the cry had a mind of it's own, rising in volumn as commanded, reaching a fevered pitch as he was ground into the wall by thinly gloved, elegant hands that press dark designs into his collarbone. He closes his eyes as the pleasure builds, strange and demanding and twisted as Master hits and toys and shatters. So very, very hard to breath with those hands tracing needle-thin paths of blood, so delicious, so sweet down his chest, flowery red-sunset-crimson like the Master's brother, stained and spilt. Arching, spiralling, flowing across his trembling breast, the thin, patterned lines like the deliate veins in a flower - perhaps a geranium's lifeblood is the color of human stickiness, the proud determination nothing but a debauched human fever dream...  
  
Clenching a fist until fingernails bite flesh and blood seeps between the sweaty crevices in a slow drip drip drip because yes, it's so good and Master is so kind as He sculpts the unworthy body before him - every touch a taste of perfecting, so bright and burning and clean that it smears away the dirt and filth that has collected in him for so long. Swept away in the flow of liquid life, pooling here and there in the rifts of his stomach and the scars of the abdomen. Needles, thin and shimmering, pressing against his skin and begging entrance, bearing open the slick membranes of skin and muscle and sliding so deep and precious and good and -  
  
A shiver, a moan, long and hoarse and hissing as He pulls back almost playfully, His lips curving up in a half-smile as the desired response is achieved. Sweet, endless torture. He promises more, and the man obeys with a sob as plasti-gloves run through his hair and haul his head back, pale, scarred neck as bare and exposed as his underbelly. Vulnerable. Destructable. He squeezes his eyes closed in absolute appreciation that Master would smile for him - and the next needle is in him, his left hand pressed across his breast as Master licks the slim metal shaft and drives it through the delicate flesh between thumb and index finger of his precious, beautiful left hand.  
  
His words. Yes, so soft, and His eyes unseeing, the beauty mark punctuating the frigid smile, the fanged smile, teasing soft lips curled upwards and hissing warm breath over the speckles of sandy blood-flowers. Throaty voice full of promises and adoration for another, never for him, words meant for one pair of ears alone and never for another being. Spilt here and now as the left arm is punctured again and again, freckled lightly with beads of salty, pulsing blood that twists and drips and paints.  
  
-Arching back breaking open splitting in half metal sweet sweet burning so hard slicing blood dripping dropping down forever scream and hold and beg and hit and purr and arch and crack and-  
  
-break breaking broken-  
  
-ecstacy-  
  
Slipping so softly beneath his skin, the blade so brilliantly shining and then sullied with the dark black-crimson, so strong and chillingly precise as it cleaves flesh from bone and presses the bloody mess upwards, and the droplets turn to streams and wandering red rivers of flowing sliding silver-red liquid. Exploring the crooks and curves of ribs and sinew and thin, weak human flesh. Tickling and earning a satisfied moan as it slips away and falls to the metal floor, drip, drip, drip...  
  
Red like the coat. Red like the flower. Red for elegance and determination and the endless game of cat and mouse. Red for his gloved fingers spreading the smears like paint on the canvas of the body, slick and artistic and fading to nothing. The human cries out, writhes against the metal before a hand presses across his mouth, before the knife trails a path over the delicate blue brow and the bridge of the finely boned nose, pressing gently through the thin membrane of skin and into the cheek. Blood welling like elusive water from the core of the earth, like lava, burning and scalding and spilling forth without a pause. Tears as he moans for Master, and Master responds with his own precious words, and then disgust, and then the sticky knife hitting the ground as Master stands abruptly in a flash of gracefully coiling muscle, finished for the moment, to fetch a clean pair of creaseless white gloves. They slip over his fingers like water, and he pulls them down with a graceful frown, erasing the signs of his play with one fell movement.  
  
Pausing in the doorway and purring, promising secrets and fantasies for His beloved brother.  
  
"Pretty when you scream, Vashu, you're so beautiful when you cry."  
  
Legato blinked the crimson blurs from his lashes - raised his left hand to his lips in a silent prayer - and smiled.  
  
  
~~~~~  
  
If flesh could crawl my skin would fall   
From off my bones and run away from here   
As far from God - as heaven is wide   
As far from God - as angels can fly   
I wish  
I wish  
I wish  
I wish  
Take it back, I dare you, take it back   
No you can't, you should have thought of that   
What's inside a man that goes so wrong?   
Choke on guilt that's far too good for you   
Say one word, I'll laugh and bury you   
And leave you in the place where you left me   
If flesh could crawl my skin would fall   
From off my bones and run away from here,   
As far from God - as heaven is wide   
As far from God - as angels can fly   
I wish I could fly   
As angels can fly   
I wish...  



End file.
